


It's All Brand New

by wannaliveindeansdimples



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Dean Winchester, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Dean owns his own business, Fluff and Angst, Gratuitous biceps, Haunted Houses, Haunting, M/M, Multi, Pansexual Castiel (Supernatural), Rich Castiel (Supernatural), Strangers to Lovers, Welder Dean, Work In Progress, thirsty Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:48:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26846926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wannaliveindeansdimples/pseuds/wannaliveindeansdimples
Summary: Dean is doing pretty well. He's got a girlfriend, his own business designing custom furniture, monthly visits from his baby brother, and he's able to make all the art he wants.Then in walks one Castiel - rich guy, art lover and home owner - and suddenly everything in Dean's life gets flipped on its ear.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 132
Kudos: 90





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **This is a WIP! More tags as we go, but there will be untagged non-explicit ships and other surprises. Updated on a semi-regular basis.**
> 
> Hello, my beautiful darlings, how have you been?!
> 
> I wanted to post something to commemorate the end (I have not watched any of Season 15 yet, so please don't spoil me!) of our little show that could. I have some feelings about it, but I want to remember how much joy the show has brought me through the years and how much it has changed my life for the better! (Speaking of, please make sure to follow my [author tumblr](http://harpercassidybooks.tumblr.com) for book news!)(yes, it is a new one from before, so if you haven't followed in the last 5-6 months, you haven't followed!)
> 
> And it is my 100th work on Ao3 to boot! Extra special, if bittersweet.

Dean might only be thirty, but at the moment he felt a hundred.

He took off his welding mask and set his torch to the side. Next he stripped off his long sleeve shirt, leaving the sleeveless T-shirt he wore underneath. He rolled his neck and his shoulders, trying to get the tension out. He'd been welding for close to two hours, according to the clock on his phone and he'd stayed in awkward positions for too much of that time. That combined with his lack of sleep the night before had lead to his excessively aged feeling.

He stepped over to the mini fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, downing it in one go, his eyes closed as he savored the sweet relief of it. As he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, he heard someone clear their throat and his eyes flew open. He turned toward the sound and found a brunet around his own height standing awkwardly by the open bay door of his studio.

"Can I help you?" Dean asked, trying not to sound as annoyed by the intrusion as he felt. The man was likely a customer and, while Dean was a long way from the poorhouse, he remembered the days of living off ramen and cereal too well to risk a sale without due cause.

"I, um, the lady at the front said to come back here," the man said, voice rising at the end as if he was asking a question.

So the man hadn't just come to the wrong door. If it was Anna who had sent the guy back here, then it was definitely a good thing not to piss the guy off. She only sent people she thought had serious sales potential.

"Was she a redhead?" Dean asked. 

"The lady who sent me? Um, yes, she was. She said you were who I should talk to about a custom piece?"

Dean suddenly realized he was leaving the guy in the doorway and the customer clearly wasn't bold enough to step inside without invitation. He needed to get in the game. 

He shook his head and stepped forward then, hand outstretched. "Hi, I'm Dean." He smiled at the man. "Sorry, I had just finished welding when you showed up and my brain isn't fully back on line yet. Come on into the shop and we can talk about your piece, Mr...?" Dean drew out the word and raised his eyebrows to indicate he was looking for the man's name.

"Oh, uh, it's Milton, but please call me Castiel." He took Dean's hand in his own rather large one and gave it a firm shake.

Dean ignored the tingle of awareness that came with the touch, as well as Castiel's intense blue stare. He didn't mix business with pleasure, and he technically had a girlfriend. To stay on topic, he started to ask Castiel what he was looking for, exactly. Before Dean could ask any further questions, though, Castiel's attention was drawn to the piece he'd been welding. He stepped toward it, obviously intrigued.

"What will this become?" Castiel asked, walking around the sculpture. "It's so fluid. I love it. Surely this isn't meant to be furniture, though?"

Dean could feel his face flush. He'd been building custom furniture for years and his confidence there was unshakable, but he was still shy about his actual art pieces. He rubbed the back of his neck and stepped over to where Castiel was eyeing the twisted metal with something like awe on his face.

"Oh, no. That's, um, that's a sculpture I'm working on."

"Is it a commission?"

"Nah, this is just something that's been knocking around my head," Dean said, self-consciously.

"So it isn't sold?" Castiel asked excitedly, turning to give Dean a piercing look.

"Uh. No."

"How much?" 

Dean was thrown by the question. He didn't sell his art. He was a furniture maker. He sometimes donated his sculptures—the local library had three of his smaller pieces—and occasionally gave some away to his friends and family, but mostly they took up space in his house, his yard, and his shop.

"I mean, it isn't finished...." Dean hedged. He had no idea what to price a piece like this.

"Well, when it is, consider it sold," Castiel said, much more confident now than he'd been when he'd arrived. "You can give me the price when it's done."

Rather than respond to that, Dean asked, "What kind of furniture were you looking to have made?"

"Oh," Castiel said, somewhat surprised, as if he'd forgotten why he was there. "I'm not entirely sure. My, um... family and I just bought a new house and the space is somewhat unusual."

"You have pictures?"

"I do, yes, but I wonder if seeing it in person might be better, to really get an idea of the size." Castiel held out his phone anyway, a photograph of large wooden beams on display. "Just swipe right to scroll through them. I believe I took at least a dozen or so."

Dean looked at the first picture more closely, and saw that the beams were a part of the ceiling. Beyond them to the side was a floor to ceiling window, visible more fully in the next picture. Dean kept scrolling to see the room from different angles. Half the room was dark and half light, due to the wood and the window and it was just as unusual a space as Castiel had described. There was photo of an alcove and Dean swiped again, hoping for a different angle of that part, but what he saw instead nearly caused him to drop the phone to the concrete floor.

"I, um, uh," he stuttered. 

He tried to swipe back left, but instead somehow swiped right in a way that made more images—each and every one a new angle of a male-male-female threesome featuring someone who bore a definite resemblance to Castiel Milton—scroll by at super speed. He quit trying to get back to the original pictures and just turned off the screen and did his best not to throw the phone at Castiel in his haste to get rid of it.

"I saw... that is, um, I want to see the room in person." Dean thought maybe ignoring what he'd seen was the right play.

Castiel's face broke into a smile. "Excellent! When would be a good time?"

"Uh, I think I'm free tomorrow morning. Would that work for you?"

"I believe so, yes. If you'll give me your number, I'll text you the add—oh." Castiel had pulled out his phone and his face went pale when he looked down at it.

Dean busied himself pulling his own phone out of his pocket and concentrated on perfecting a look of innocence. "You ready for the number?" he asked, not looking up.

"Um." There was a brief pause, followed by a soft, "One moment." Castiel cleared his throat and when he spoke again, his voice sounded stronger. "Yes, I'm ready now."

Dean gave him the number and then asked, "Will ten o'clock be all right? I could maybe swing nine, but no earlier than that."

"Ten will be fine, Dean. Thank you." Castiel gave him a shy smile, clearly still embarrassed and uncertain if Dean had seen the pictures. 

"Well, here, I'll walk you out," Dean said, hoping to clear the weird tension between them. "I need to go upfront anyway." He stepped toward the bay door and waited for Castiel to follow. "So how many pieces were you thinking? Couch? Couple of chairs? Maybe a table?"

"Oh, I'm not sure, but probably all of those. It's quite a large room. We've got furniture in it for the moment, but as you'll see tomorrow, it most definitely does not fit in the space. I want something that really blends with the house the way... well, the way the house blends with the landscape." Castiel smiled a little as they neared the corner of the building. "That won't make much sense to you until you've seen the house, of course."

Dean smiled back, genuinely. Castiel was difficult to get a read on, but Dean liked the guy. "I look forward to it. From the pictures—" Dean resolutely tamped down the images of a threesome that flared back to life in his mind. "—it looks like a really interesting place."

"Well, I'm just parked over there. Thank you so much, Dean. I'll send you the address from the car." 

Castiel hurried over to a sleek silver car Dean didn't want to know the price of, and Dean walked toward the office. He felt his phone vibrate as he stepped through the door, but he ignored it for now. He could look at the address later. For now, he wanted to see Anna.

@@@

Castiel absolutely was not ashamed of his polyamorous lifestyle. After what had happened with his disastrous relationship with Dick Roman, he'd found so much honesty and communication in the ethical nonmonogamy community that he'd never known in his monogamous relationships. He was happy for maybe the first time in his life and he wasn't going to feel any shame about that. 

That did not mean, on the other hand, that he wanted to advertise his alternative lifestyle to business associates and other random acquaintances. If he'd realized that Balthazar had not used his own phone for the impromptu photo session and had instead taken Castiel's, he'd never have handed his phone to a total stranger and invited him to swipe unsupervised through his photos. Castiel had been embarrassed enough by his reaction to watching Dean down a bottle of water.

Had Dean seen the photos? Or had he accidentally swiped into the gallery when he'd handed the phone back to Castiel? There was no way to know, if he didn't tell Castiel he'd seen them, and what person in their right mind would tell a potential customer, "By the way, I saw your living room, but also your penis, someone else's testicles, and also someone's labia majora."

Castiel's thoughts surprised a laugh out of him as he drove toward his new home. He'd told Dean that he and his "family" had bought the place, but really, Castiel had bought it for himself, and Balthazar and Meg had moved in with him for the time being. He loved them both, though he definitely wasn't in love with either of them, but he doubted they'd stay together indefinitely. Meg in particular was not a fan of being tied down—though she did enjoy tying other people up—and Zar was all about the new experience. Still, they were great companions and the sex, it must be said, was phenomenal. He was content for now and that was all that mattered to him.

He pulled up the long drive slowly, then stopped as soon as the house came into view. He took a moment to drink in the beauty that was his new home. It was far too big for one man who expected to be alone, but growing up in the orphanage with ten other children in too small a building with cramped rooms and a tiny yard had taught Castiel to appreciate having his own space. Besides that, the house was breathtaking and he had the money, so he didn't care about what anyone thought. He was hardly interested in social norms in any other aspect of his life, so why worry about his living arrangements, he figured.

Castiel pulled the rest of the way to the house and parked right in front of the front staircase that led to the front part of the wrap-around porch. The porch went three-quarters of the way around the house on the front, right and back, leaving only the left side without a veranda on that level. The left side of the house had a large terrace on the second floor instead. He considered going in via those steps, but opted to walk through the front door in the end.

As soon as he stepped into the foyer, he could hear sounds that told him Meg and Zar were likely naked nearby. When he walked through to the vast living room with its wide wooden beams, he could see them lazily fucking on one end of the existing couch. 

"I can see I've been missed," Castiel teased as he walked over to them.

"Mm, you were actually," Meg said breathlessly. "Wasn't I just saying?" she asked Zar.

"She was," Zar confirmed. "Care to join us?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

@@@

"Hey, babe," Dean said, stepping up toward Anna after the customer she'd been helping walked away.

She made a face, but then smiled in a way that seemed less than genuine. "Hey, what's up?"

"Uh, you tell me. What's with the face?" Dean asked, not in the mood for games.

"It's nothing," Anna said with a sigh.

Dean just looked at her without speaking.

"Fine! I don't like being called 'babe' like we're teenagers."

"You used to like it when I called you that—" Dean began, intending to say he'd stop since it bothered her now.

"I used to like a lot of things," Anna muttered under her breath as she rolled her eyes. "We're adults. I'd like us to act like it."

Something in Dean snapped. Things had been tense for a while and this was just too much.

"Sure," Dean said, keeping his face blank as he nodded. "Nothing screams maturity like passive aggression and eye rolling." His expression hardened. "Well, since you're so good at being an adult, then you won't mind getting a hotel tonight instead of coming back to the apartment."

"What the hell!" she stage whispered.

Dean kept his voice low. "Sammy's flying in tonight and I'll be damned if you're going to poison his visit with whatever this is. You've been shitty to me for weeks now, and I've tried to keep the peace and ride it out 'cause it seemed like you were going through something, but enough is enough, Anna."

Anna closed her eyes. Then she took and released a deep breath. When she opened her eyes again, her face had lost its hard look.

"You're right. About all of it." She shook her head. "I'll stay away until Sam leaves and then... then I guess we need to talk about everything."

"Okay," Dean said, at a loss. "Do we need to talk now?"

"No, I... let me get my thoughts in order and my attitude in check first. Enjoy your brother's visit." She squeezed his arm and started to turn away, but quickly turned back. "Oh, did Mr. Milton find you in the back?"

Dean blinked at the rapid subject change. "Um. Yeah, he did. I'm going over to see his place tomorrow to see what we can come up with."

"Good. Um, tell Sam I said hello." With that, she was gone toward the back room, not even waiting for his reply. 

"Fuck," he said softly.

@@@

By the time Castiel had recovered his energy, it was time for dinner. Since neither he nor Meg could be trusted in the kitchen with anything more complicated than toast, Zar had become designated cook by default. Though he often left them to scrounge for themselves, tonight he had apparently planned ahead and prepped a meal in advance.

"You two moochers are in luck. Since I love this new kitchen, I took the liberty of getting dinner started ages ago, before Meg so handily waylaid me."

"Waylaid you handily or waylaid you with a handy?" Castiel asked, in a ridiculous mood.

"What's the difference?" Balthazar asked with a smirk. "At any rate, go wash up. You've got about fifteen minutes."

It was actually more like twenty when Zar called them to eat, but Castiel was still impressed.

"How the hell did you make pasta putanesca in twenty minutes?!" he asked, scooping a large bite into his mouth.

"I'll never tell," Zar said, helping himself to a second piece of garlic toast.

Meg scoffed. "He watched a YouTube video from those Britsh guys he likes."

"Traitor," Balthazar said mildly. 

"Hey, I'm not saying it's not still impressive as hell that you pulled it off," Meg said. "It's fucking delicious."

When they slowed down eating a bit, Castiel said, "I've got a guy coming over in the morning to look at the living room so he can hopefully design some furniture. He'll be here at ten, so if you could either be wearing clothes and not fucking, or at least be upstairs, that would be helpful."

"You're no fun, but I hate how the old couch looks, so I guess I'll comply. Who is this guy you're bringing into our humble home, anyway?" Meg asked.

"You know the big furniture showroom out on Route Nine?"

Meg gave him a flat look. "Why would I?"

"I know it. Weird name. Winchester Drawers or something?" Zar chimed in.

"Yes! Well, Dean is the one who designs the furniture. He's an artist too. I've already agreed to buy one of his sculptures."

"I think you misunderstood the question. What I meant by 'who is this guy' is, will I want to bone him?" Meg said.

"Is there anyone breathing that you don't want to bone, darling?" Balthazar asked mildly.

"Oh, several people," Meg said with a smirk.

"Anyone you haven't already boned, though?"

"Please do not try to bone the furniture maker, Meg," Castiel said with a sigh. Save him for me, Castiel thought.

"No fun. I'm going to head to the hot tub. Anyone want to join?"

"I've got paperwork to finish, but you two enjoy," Castiel said. "Thank you so much for dinner, Zar. It was delicious as always."

He really didn't have any paperwork to do, Castiel just needed a few minutes to himself. He loved having Zar and Meg around, but sometimes, he needed his space to recharge and they weren't prone to giving it to him. So occasionally he just had to take it, even if it meant lying to them so that he wouldn't hurt their feelings. He wondered if other people did the same thing or if it was just him.

@@@

Dean flung his keys onto the hallway table with a satisfying clatter. He'd intended to leave a little early so he could shower before heading out to get Sam, but instead he'd left immediately after talking to Anna. It wasn't like he was going to be productive the rest of the day after that conversation. One of the perks of owning the business, though he didn't take advantage of it very often. He loved being in his shop too much.

Since he had the time, he decided he'd throw together a lasagna for dinner. Dean figured it was the perfect choice. Not only was it one of Sam's favorites, but if Sam was tired from his trip, dinner was covered. On the other hand, if Sam wanted to go out, the lasagna would keep till the next day or it would freeze. By the time he had it all ready to go, he had just enough time to hop in the shower and head for the airport. 

Dean slipped back behind the wheel and pointed his late model Nissan—no way was he risking Baby at the airport these days—toward the highway. He didn't get nearly as much enjoyment out of the drive in the Nissan, but it did have AC and that almost made up for not having the Impala on these little monthly airport trips. Sam could have gotten a ride share, but as close as Dean lived to the airport, it hardly seemed worth it. Plus, it was practically tradition at this point for Dean to pick him up. 

In under twenty minutes, Sam and his overnight bag were safely ensconced in the Nissan and they were leaving the airport.

"So how've you been, man?" Sam asked as they waited to turn.

"Eh, I been all right. How about you? How's the new job?"

Sam laughed. "Stressful. But I'm getting the hang of it."

"Still can't believe you dropped out of law school to do research for a living, man. Never could see you as a lawyer, though, tell you the truth." Dean glanced over at his brother. "I'm proud of you, you know that, right?"

"Wow. Thanks, man. I love research in a way that I never loved the law."

"Now we just gotta get you a fucking haircut," Dean said with a smirk.

Sam made an indignant noise. "Jerk!"

"Bitch." Dean grinned and Sam grinned back. They pulled up to a deserted intersection. "So, dinner. You wanna go out or eat in?"

"I don't wanna make you cook after you worked all day. Let's go out."

"I've already got it made, just gotta throw it in the oven, but going out sounds good too," Dean told him. He slowly eased the car into the turn onto the road toward home, knowing Sam would want to shower first either way.

"Oh. Um, well, what does Anna want to do?"

Dean cleared his throat. "Anna will not be dining with us," he said as neutrally as he could.

"Oh. Is... everything okay? I know you said she was acting weird for a while."

"No, I don't think it is," Dean said. Then he shrugged. "She has been weird. Today she went from weird to downright nasty. I called her on it and told her to get a hotel room." He gave Sam a tight smile. "She says hi, by the way."

"Wow. I'm sorry, man. So, you think that's it, or...?"

Dean blew out a breath. "Yeah. I think if she doesn't end things, I'm gonna. I just... I mean, I care about her, but I think maybe we're going different directions."

"That sucks, dude."

Dean shrugged and said nothing. The last few weeks had been bad, but honestly, now that he'd had time to deal with her behavior from this afternoon, Dean realized he wasn't sure of the last time things were really good between them. He thought maybe he'd been, if not unhappy, then at least not fully happy for a while. He couldn't remember the last time they'd had sex. Or that he'd wanted to. Sex wasn't close to the most important part of a relationship, but when it stopped for no apparent reason, it was usually a pretty good indicator that things weren't working in a relationship. Sometimes it was salvageable. Sometimes not. He figured now was one of those times when it wasn't.

"Yeah," he said finally. "Yeah, it really does."

@@@

Castiel wasn't sure what woke him, he just came to full consciousness in the dark, the only sounds he could hear the crickets outside the open window. He glanced at his bedside clock and found it was close to three. When he looked at the bed he usually shared with one or both of his companions, he found he was the only one in it. That wasn't unheard of, but it made him feel strange. To him, the best part of having multiple partners was never having to wake up alone, yet here he was.

Then he heard it. 

A woman's voice, right next to his ear, said, "Leeaavvve."

Castiel felt goosebumps all down that side of his body, as a cold breeze seemed to blow across his skin. His heart was pounding so hard he couldn't hear anything else. Even the crickets had been drowned out. He felt tightness across his chest and he wanted to tell himself it was some weird acoustical anomaly, but in the heavy darkness of the bedroom, lit only by the faint glow of the alarm clock, he couldn't find another explanation.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when the toilet flushed in the master bathroom. Balthazar came sauntering out, stopping briefly when he caught sight of Castiel sitting up in bed.

"I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"

"No," Castiel said. "At least, I don't think so." He shook his head. "Something... weird... happened, Zar."

Balthazar came over to Castiel's side of the bed, his concern evident even in the low light. "Are you all right? You sound frightened, darling."

"I don't...." He trailed off, knowing he couldn't tell Zar what had happened. He couldn't speak of it, not in the dark. "Fuck me," he said instead.

And Zar did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't guarantee the posting schedule will always be this quick, but I will do my best.
> 
> Are you following my [author tumblr](http://harpercassidybooks.tumblr.com)? Check it out for release dates, excerpts, writer memes and general foolishness.

@@@

Dean whistled as he pulled up the long drive and saw the massive two—or was it three?—story house that Castiel lived in. It was built to blend in beautifully with the landscape, a fact that made Castiel's statements from the day before make a lot more sense. He wanted his furniture to blend with the house the way the house blended in with the hillside it was built into. The building featured the same sort of giant wooden beams that were in the photos of the living room ceiling, a ton of glass and some stonework besides. 

Dean hoped he'd get a tour. He wanted to see what the views were like from all sides of the place. They hadn't discussed cost or hourly fees, but looking at where Castiel lived, Dean mentally raised his standard rates. He always adjusted his rate—usually down—on a case by case basis, but if Castiel could afford this place, Dean could actually charge what he thought his work was worth for a change. He remembered the statue Castiel had said he wanted to buy and started figuring how much he'd put into it in terms of labor and supplies. Before he could settle on a price, however, he was pulling up to the house behind the silver car Castiel had been driving the day before.

Dean got out and stared up at the house, which was even more daunting up close. The place was huge and gorgeous and Dean was excited to see inside, even if Castiel changed his mind about wanting the furniture, which Dean knew all too well was always a possibility. He'd been burned on many occasions at this point and stupidly, it was often by the richest clients. Their whim changed and their common courtesy nearly always got lost in the shuffle.

"Think positive," Dean mumbled to himself as he made his way up the staircase that was bigger than his car.

He stepped up to the door, which was massive in its own right and curved at the top, as if it originally had been meant to be part of a pair for an arched doorway. There was only one, however, and it was made of polished wood and thin strips of colored glass that probably couldn't be seen through even from inside, but would definitely paint the entryway with a rainbow when the sun came up each morning. With a deep breath, Dean pressed the doorbell, setting off a deep rolling chime like a church bell inside the house.

Dean glimpsed movement behind the colored glass a split second before the door opened to reveal Castiel, who smiled warmly at him.

"Dean, welcome. Thank you for coming." Castiel stepped back and gestured inside. "Please come in."

Dean stepped inside and inhaled deeply. He wasn't sure if it was the wood used in the walls or if Castiel had enhanced it with incense, but the air had the faint aroma of perfumed wood. "Nice place."

"Thank you," Castiel said, obviously pleased. "The living room is right this way."

"Lead on." As Dean stepped forward to follow Castiel, he stepped through a pocket of cold air and shivered, making an involuntary noise. "Wow, that AC is something else."

Castiel looked at him strangely. "I don't believe the AC is supposed to be running. I'd better check the thermostat." He gave a tight smile and started moving forward again. 

Dean frowned, wondering why bringing up the air conditioner seemed to piss Castiel off. Even for rich people eccentricity, that seemed weird. He shrugged it off and followed Castiel again, but nearly ran into his back when Castiel abruptly pulled up short when he reached the large archway halfway down the hall. He started moving forward almost immediately, but Dean gave him a head start this time, just in case.

"Dean, these are my roommates, Balthazar and Meg." Castiel's voice sounded clipped.

"Hey, nice to meet you both," Dean said, giving a little wave to the two people lounging on the existing couch.

Meg looked at Balthazar with wide eyes and said, "And they were roommates!"

Balthazar snorted. "Welcome, Dean. Would you care for a sherry?"

"I'm good, thanks." He wondered about the roommates comment, but knew better than to ask.

"If there is actual sherry in that glass," Castiel said drily, "I'll eat my shoe."

"It's gin and juice. He was listening to Snoop Dogg earlier to prove he's still relevant," Meg said, smirking into her own glass of questionable liquid.

Castiel rolled his eyes, but Dean grinned. "Y'all are a trip." Then he turned to Castiel. "So this is the space you want to furnish, but are you wanting to replace everything?"

"Definitely!" Meg said at the same time Balthazar said, "The whole bloody lot!"

Castiel pinched his nose between his fingers. "I think I need more coffee for this. Dean, would you like a coffee?"

"Now that does sound good, actually. If you're sure it's no trouble."

"None at all. Care to follow me into the kitchen?" Castiel gave his roommates a pointed look as he headed toward a second archway further along the wall, toward the large picture window from the photographs.

Remembering the photographs, Dean's eyes widened. He did his best to keep his smile to himself, but he was reasonably certain that the two people on the couch were the two other people from the nude pictures on Castiel's phone. He glanced at Meg's ankle as he passed and, sure enough, saw the same tattoo he'd seen in one particularly bendy photo. He decided he needed to put Castiel out of at least some of his misery, once they reached the kitchen.

Once they got through the archway, they entered a dining room, which had the same kind of glass wall as the living area. Rather than having chairs all around, the table was pressed against the glass, with chairs only on three sides. It was a bit small for the space, but decorative art made up for the extra space somewhat. Dean wondered if his own statue would wind up in this room or another one.

"Here we are," Castiel said as they stepped at last into the kitchen. 

Dean looked around in awe. Instead of a glass wall, the kitchen had a ceiling made entirely of glass squares, except for the center square, from which a large chandelier hung. The kitchen was spacious, but also felt warm and functional and not like a show kitchen. It seemed like a place that families might gather.

"Man, this is a great place," Dean said again.

"Thank you! I was so pleased to find it. I've looked at so many houses, but none quite had the soul of this one. I'm still surprised by how low the price was." Castiel flinched. "Sorry, I suppose that's very gauche to say."

Rather than answer that question, Dean said, "So, about your, uh, living situation. I just want you to know that whatever that situation may be, it's entirely your business. I'm not here to judge you for your life."

Castiel blinked at him for a moment, a host of emotions at war on his face. He was clearly trying to decide whether to pretend ignorance or outrage or just go with it.

Finally, he said, "I—thank you. That's a bit of a relief, honestly." Castiel's shoulders seemed to relax. "I'm not ashamed of my life, but—"

"But people can be judgmental dicks and you just want me to design your furniture, not gossip behind your back?"

Castiel's smile was bright. "Yes. You seemed a pleasant person, but this is my home and I suppose I felt... vulnerable."

"No worries," Dean said with an answering smile. "I am not here to do anything but get ideas for a living room set."

@@@

Castiel set to work brewing the coffee, preferring as always to use his electric kettle and his french press, rather than the coffee pot or the espresso machine Zar and Meg liked. He smiled at Dean over his shoulder, not feeling the need to make conversation. Dean was actually turned away, looking at the cabinets and wall art, rather than watching Castiel work, so Castiel took the opportunity to look at Dean a little more carefully than he otherwise would have. There was an ease to being with Dean that Castiel didn't often experience, which was even more surprising given how unfairly attractive the man was. 

"Oh, hey, where did you find this?" Dean asked about a metal and wood hanging sculpture. He sounded excited.

"That was a gift from an ex. Someone gave it to him, but he said he thought it should go to someone who appreciated it for the art more than the sentimental value."

Dean looked at him oddly. "What was his name?"

"Why?" Castiel asked. 

"Because this is my work. And I want to know if you got it from the man I gave it to."

"Will it hurt your feelings more if it was or wasn't?" Castiel asked, more to stall than for any desire to know. 

He wasn't sure if he should tell on Benny, but more than that, he was a little surprised and very pleased to learn Dean might like both genders. Certainly the red-haired woman at the shop had called him her boyfriend and Dean hadn't pinged Castiel's gaydar, but Benny definitely said it was a gift from a lover, and Castiel also knew people often didn't guess his own sexuality without obvious clues.

"If it wasn't Benny who gave it to you, it would probably bother me a little." Dean was looking at the art again. "The art versus sentimental reasons thing, that sorta sounds like him, though." He turned back to Castiel and his smile was fond but distant, as if he were lost in memories.

"It was Benny, yes." Castiel decided to offer a little more, even though Dean hadn't asked. "I spent a summer in NOLA and a friend took me to Benny's bar." It hadn't been serious, but it had been fun. 

"We met here in town. He used to make furniture with me," Dean said. Then his smiled faltered and he made a face. "Jesus, your acoustics are weird."

Castiel frowned. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"I think I just heard Meg from the other room, but it was like she was whispering in my damn ear."

Castiel felt his skin prickle. "What... did she say?"

"I guess she was telling Balthazar not to leave? I don't know. Hard to make out."

The kettle popped as the water finished boiling and Castiel jumped. He busied himself with pouring the water into the press, not daring to look at Dean just then. Castiel knew his fear must be visible on his face and the last thing he wanted was to be asked why he was so afraid. He wouldn't be able to find a lie and the truth was likely to get him locked up, wasn't it? Might be nice not to be alone with it, though. Dean had experienced not only the voice, but also a cold spot earlier. Maybe he could be trusted?

Castiel mentally shook himself. No way could he tell this virtual stranger what had happened to him the night before—and, if he was honest, at least one other time—and expect to be believed. Best to keep his mouth shut.

"Coffee should be ready in about three minutes," Castiel said.

@@@

Dean was still reeling from the unexpected reminder of Benny, his first real boyfriend, so he barely heard Castiel tell him about the coffee. The way they'd ended things wasn't great and so the wound was still a little raw, even after all this time, even though Dean had long outgrown his feelings for Benny. He should look him up. Get some closure. Then again, sleeping dogs, and all that. Still, the art piece gave him a legit reason to get in touch. Maybe Dean would take it. Maybe Castiel still had Benny's number. Only one way to find out.

He turned back to Castiel to speak, leaving his back to the open door to the hallway. 

"Hey, Cas—"

Dean felt someone shove the back of his left shoulder. He whipped around, but no one was there.

"What the fuck!"

Dean's heart hammered in his chest. His skin felt like it must be a thousand degrees, as cold as the air felt against it. He knew he'd been pushed, but there wasn't anyone around. Hearing a voice in his ear could be blamed on acoustics, but a shove? No.

"Dean?" Castiel asked, face a mask of worry. "Are you all right?"

Dean debated the merits of lying. Castiel was almost definitely gonna think he was crazy. But Castiel also had to live here. He ought to know... right?

"Do your lights ever flicker?" Dean asked before he could second-guess himself.

Castiel's eyes certainly did, as he clearly weighed his options. "Yes," he said slowly.

"Earlier, when I came in, how sure are you that the air conditioner was off?"

"Honestly?" Castiel sighed, visibly drooping as if letting go of some burden. "One hundred percent positive. And last night, I felt a similar cold draft... right after someone whispered in my ear, when no one was there and the bedroom door was closed."

Dean figured he may as well go all in. "Dude, your house is fucking haunted."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My lovelies! Come say hi and tell me what you think of all the surprises. ♥♥♥


	3. He knew I'd understand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean designs furniture. Castiel comes to a realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Ghost of a Texas Ladies' Man by Concrete Blonde. The other chapters don't have names, but this song is in my head and it fits, so here we are.

@@@

Castiel stared for a long moment at Dean, hardly daring to believe that Dean... well. That Dean believed Castiel. 

"You believe me?" Castiel asked in a soft voice.

"Well, I'd like to believe that after I just got shoved by the air like that, I'd believe you anyway, but... I've kind of got... experience." Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't wanna talk about it right now, but trust me when I say that I've dealt with something like this before."

"What the hell do I do?"

"I have some ideas," Dean said. "But you're probably not gonna like most of them."

Castiel stopped and took a deep breath, closing his eyes to ground himself. Then he opened his eyes again and looked straight at Dean, decisive. 

"Let's have our coffee first. Then we can discuss it. For the moment, though, I'd like to set the topic aside." He paused to consider. "Assuming nothing else happens in the meantime. Perhaps we should have coffee in the living room? Nothing has happened in there so far."

"What about your, uh, partners? Will they be an issue if we try to talk about this stuff?" Dean asked.

"I don't know, honestly," Castiel said with a sigh as he poured their coffee. "How do you take your coffee?"

"Oh, uh, let me taste it first." Dean took a careful sip. "Damn. That's good coffee. I'll take it just like this, thanks."

When they got back to the living room, however, both Zar and Meg were nowhere to be found. Presumably they'd grown bored of not being able to ogle and eavesdrop, so they'd gone off to do other things. Likely, Castiel thought, each other.

"Looks like we have the room to ourselves. This could be good. I'll get a chance to get a feel for the room," Dean said, taking a seat in a chair that faced the hallway wall.

Castiel was a bit surprised. "So you're still interested in doing the furniture?"

Dean paused with his cup halfway to his lips, then set it down gently on the coffee table. "Look, if you're wanting to back out of the order, please don't string me along just because you want my help with the... other thing. I'll still help you, regardless. But I don't want to waste my time planning furniture in my head for a space I won't get to build anything for."

"Oh, no, that wasn't—I definitely still want you to do the furniture. I just thought you might back out because of the... other thing."

"Not me." Perhaps to change the subject, Dean sipped his coffee again, then asked, "So where were you thinking of putting the sculpture when I finish it? Dining room?"

"Oh, no, I think it would get lost in there. I want it to stand alone somewhere. Really show it off."

@@@

The praise made Dean squirm in a not unpleasant way, but he had to break eye contact. He looked all around the room, able to take it in much better now that Meg and Balthazar were gone. It really was an amazing space. It was huge, but somehow still felt cozy and not cold. The beams gave a feeling of a home that could weather any test. The window made it feel as though the house was part of the forest.

"Man. I really do love this room. It has such great energy. Helps that it's gorgeous." He felt sort of the same way about Castiel, but he didn't intend to say so. Maybe once things were resolved with Anna...

Castiel's smile was radiant. "I know. I love it so much. Easily my favorite room in the whole house. That's why I want it to have furniture that really fits in the space."

"I can definitely understand that. Like you said, you want it to blend the way the house does with the hillside." Dean had a sudden flash of inspiration. "Oh. Hm. Give me a second, I want to sketch something out."

Dean dug into his bag and pulled out a sketch notebook and a pencil. He quickly tried to sketch out what he saw in his head, ignoring the feeling of Castiel's gaze. The first attempt wasn't right, so Dean tried again on the next page. That was closer, but still not there, possibly because he could still tell Castiel was watching him as he worked. Finally, he stopped trying so hard, shut out everything outside his own mind, and just let his hand do what it wanted. This time the image came out the way he wanted. When he was done, he turned the page toward Castiel.

"What do you think of this?"

Castiel eagerly took the notebook. "Oh, I love it! Everything in one. Would it be one big piece or could it be separated?"

"Um, probably it would need to be made in pieces and assembled here. Or possibly built inside the room, though that's not exactly the ideal situation. Hm. I'm not sure. I'll have to figure out the logistics, but I think this is the one. I know it's my first sketch, but... it fits, doesn't it?"

Castiel nodded. "It fits."

Dean took the notebook back, then settled back. He wasn't ready to discuss the ghost yet, but he didn't want to sit in awkward silence either. Remembering how Castiel had stared at him, Dean figured it was a safe bet that the attraction he felt was reciprocated, but he thought now was as good a time as any to test the waters. He cleared his throat and put away the notebook, done for now.

"So, uh, your thing with Meg and Balthazar. Is it exclusive?" Seeing Castiel bristle, Dean hastened to explain himself. "I'm not trying to be rude or nosy, I—"

"Is your thing with the redhead exclusive?" Castiel said sharply, not allowing Dean to finish. "Just because we have an unusual arrangement doesn't mean—"

"My thing with the redhead is in the process of ending," Dean said quietly, "which is why I'm asking."

Castiel frowned at him in apparent confusion and Dean rolled his eyes.

"I'm about to be on the market and if your relationship isn't exclusive, I'd like to take you out on a date once that happens."

"Oh," Castiel said, his angry posture deflating. He smiled, but then he said, "I'm sorry, but we are exclusive." He looked like he wanted to say more, but then frowned and shook his head.

Dean was disappointed, but he'd known it was a possibility or he wouldn't have asked. He shrugged and smiled at Castiel to show there were no hard feelings.

"Hey, no worries, man. Just figured I'd shoot my shot." He decided to return to the previous topic as he sipped more coffee. "So, how soon do you think you'll be able to clear out this room so I can do measurements?"

Castiel looked toward the other end of the house. "Oh. Um. I'm not sure. I'll probably have to hire movers. I'm afraid my partners aren't very well adapted for physical labor," Castiel said with a wry smile.

"Well, I mean, I can help you out with that. I know some guys who'd be happy to help in exchange for a six pack and tacos. We'd just need your partners to stay out of the downstairs." Dean considered. "I can probably have them here Monday, if that works for you."

"Actually," Castiel said, glancing at the other end of the house again before looking back at Dean. "Since you're going to need to be working in here, maybe I should have them out of the house entirely. Let me talk with them and then get back with you, if that's all right."

"Sure, yeah." Dean downed the rest of his coffee, sensing it was about time to go. "Um, why don't you call me tomorrow, so we can discuss... everything?" He pulled a business card out of his pocket. "I wrote my cell number on the back of this one. Just shoot me a text first, make sure I'm free. My brother is in town, so I might be caught up, but I'll call you back, if I am."

"All right. That sounds good. Thank you again for coming by on your day off."

"Hey, no problem. Well, I better get going. I can see myself out," Dean said, standing.

"Oh, I'd rather walk you. The door can be tricky sometimes, and I think I might walk around outside, anyway."

"Not a bad idea." Dean hated that it was awkward now, but he didn't know how to make it any better.

Castiel walked him to the door and, just as he'd said, the door stuck and had to be finagled. Once he had the door open, he came outside with Dean and even walked him to his car. Dean thought it was a little odd, but given the events of the day, not that odd, he supposed. He waited until Dean had unlocked the door, then touched him lightly on the arm.

In a low voice, Castiel said, "I also want Zar and Meg gone so we discuss what to do about whatever is going on in the house. I have a feeling they won't be... receptive to the stories of our encounters, nor any plan you might have to make the encounters stop." He chewed his lower lip as he stared at the house. "And for the record—"

Dean waited, but Castiel had abruptly stopped speaking and didn't start again. Finally, Castiel shook his head and walked away, frowning. Dean watched him as he walked away and around the side of the house where there was no ground floor porch. Dean drove away once Castiel had disappeared from sight. There was definitely something weird going on in that house, but Dean was no longer sure it was as simple as a ghost.

@@@

As he walked the trail on the side of the house that led to the gardens, Castiel could feel eyes on him, and he turned to find Meg on the second floor terrace. He waved at her and she waved back, but did not answer his smile. He called out to her that he was going for a walk, and continued on his way, not waiting for or receiving a response.

He was more than a little disturbed at the moment. For a lot of reasons. First and foremost, of course, was whatever was going on with the house. He didn't know why, but he did not feel at all comfortable discussing the issue with Meg and Balthazar. He felt it went beyond mere fear that he would be dismissed, but he couldn't pinpoint it. He was grateful that Dean had been as open with him as he had. It helped having someone to confide in. Someone who might be able to help, even.

His growing attraction to Dean was another reason he was unsettled. He had no idea why he'd told Dean he and Meg and Zar were exclusive. They absolutely weren't. And he'd love to go out with Dean and get to know him better—and see him naked, as long as he was dreaming. Yet he had found himself lying and unable to even tell Dean that the attraction was reciprocated. 

He didn't understand. Was he scared of what might happen with Dean because the attraction was so strong? He had no idea. It didn't make sense to him that he was pushing Dean away, so how could it be what he really wanted? And yet, even by the car, he'd found himself unable to even say that he was flattered by Dean's attention or that the attraction was reciprocal.

The trail finally opened up to the beautiful garden one of the previous owners had put in. He'd been excited when the realtor showed him, but even more excited the first time he'd been able to walk through it alone. It was a magical sort of place. It was perfectly situated to get sun but also have ample shade to walk through. The latter owed partly to the overhanging plants. The whole thing was enclosed on three sides by trellises, up which climbed a wide variety of flowering plants Castiel mostly didn't know the names of. The riot of color lifted his spirits and he took a seat on a bench to let himself enjoy a few moments of peace.

As he sat, listening to the birds and basking in the warm sun and soft breeze, Castiel reflected that the one thing missing was a bird bath. He'd also like to see more decorative rocks and crystals to catch the light. Then he wondered if signs with inspirational words like "tranquility" and "peace" would be taking it too far into what Meg would call "hippy dippy" territory. He shrugged and mentally made a list of things he wanted to get for the garden. Meg was unlikely to ever come in here, so her opinion mattered little. 

It was, after all, his house, he reflected. Neither she nor Zar were currently paying rent, nor did he intend to ask them to, even though they had been splitting the bills at the previous rental house. Considering these things made Castiel wonder if his conviction that both Meg and Balthazar would move on soon was based more on their behavior, or on his own waning interest in continuing.

He frowned, no longer feeling peaceful. It suddenly hit him that he was no longer satisfied in his relationship. How had he not seen it? Not only had he bought a house strictly for himself, in his own name, he’d gone out and hired someone to design furniture, without giving his companions a heads up, let alone the slightest input in the process. He had even been lying in order to avoid spending time with them, the way he had when Meg had wanted him to join her in the hot tub.

With a start, Castiel realized that he wasn’t just "no longer satisfied." He was actively unhappy.

That made it all the more puzzling that he’d turned Dean down with the lie about being exclusive. Castiel didn’t understand why he hadn’t realized how unhappy he was. Now that he had seen it, it seemed so very obvious.

Before he could think on it further, he heard Balthazar calling from far away.

“Castiel? Castiel!”

Loath for some reason to let Zar know where he was, Castiel got up and started walking toward the house. He didn’t follow the trail, not wanting to make it obvious he’d taken it. Zar and Meg were unaware of the garden and he wanted to keep it that way. He didn’t understand the instinct, but just now, he felt it wisest to listen to the same primal parts of him that had led to him buying the house in the first place.

@@@

The next day, Dean woke up earlier than usual for a Sunday. It figured, since he'd slept like shit, but once he was awake, there was no getting back to sleep. He'd had weird dreams when he did sleep, but they matched his conscious thoughts, so it was no real surprise. He'd never expected a furniture project to turn into a haunting, but now that it had, it was hard to shake thoughts of the past.

He hadn't wanted to delve into the whole thing with Castiel, not only because Castiel, no matter how attractive and nice he was, was a total stranger, but because he'd hoped not to dredge up those memories. Unfortunate, his mind had no such qualms about bringing up things he'd prefer to forget and when he hadn't been dreaming of ghostly hands shoving him around, he'd been awake, remembering.

"Hey, you're up early," Sam said when Dean walked into the kitchen.

"S'ere coffee?" Dean mumbled, "is there" being too many syllables for his mouth to form just then.

Sam snorted. "Yeah, man. Sit down, I'll grab you a cup." Sam looked at him as he filled a mug, face growing more serious. "You all right? You look like you went a couple rounds with Tyson."

"Mm," was all the answer Dean could manage.

"Man, if you're not gonna give me shit, you must be in a bad way." Sam plonked the mug down in front of Dean. 

Dean grabbed the mug gratefully, and carefully took as much of a sip as he could. It wasn't fresh, so it wasn't steaming hot and Dean was fine with that. He swallowed noisily and drank again.

"Mm. Thanks, man. I feel like death." He glanced up at Sam and back down at his mug. "Bad dreams."

Sam frowned. "Like... before?"

Dean shook his head before taking another deep sip. "Nah, not really, but… same general topic. New reason."

"What new reason?" Sam asked more sharply than was his norm.

Dean sighed and leaned back in his chair trying to stretch out the kinks. When his neck finally popped, he groaned in relief and sat back up. 

"The guy yesterday, with the house." Dean cleared his throat. "There was an incident. And apparently it wasn't the first one."

@@@

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today was brutal. Love me? ❤❤❤
> 
> Follow my author Tumblr, harpercassidybooks.tumblr.com for book updates, purchase links, writer memes and general shenanigans*.
> 
> *there are very few shenanigans


	4. Join the black parade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late and a bit short, had a rough week, but I have been writing and plotting and moving the story forward, never fear.

@@@

On Sunday, Castiel went for a walk in the late morning, once again seeking out the garden, but from more circuitous route this time. Last night, he'd somewhat lost his conviction that he was as unhappy as he'd thought yesterday after Dean left. Balthazar and Meg had kept him laughing at their antics throughout the evening and he felt he genuinely did enjoy their company. 

But when he'd gone to bed, he'd once again woken up alone. The cold had woken him first, his whole body shuddering with chills. Then the disembodied voice had returned, louder than before.

"Get  _ out _ !" it had cried this time, sounding more androgynous than before.

Castiel hadn't gotten out, but he had slept with the light on. And this morning, he'd woken up with the strong conviction that he needed to arrange for Meg and Zar to be out of the house as soon as possible, so that he could have Dean over to deal with his problem. 

Instead of asking them, he'd used breakfast to announce, "I need you both out of the house all day tomorrow and maybe Tuesday and Wednesday, also."

"Uh, screw you," Meg had said, smiling sweetly. 

"Well, I am certainly not leaving so you can schedule orgies in our absence," Zar had said.

"Wonderful! Then you can both help me haul furniture out of the living room. And all the sawing and hammering won't bother you, anyway, I'm sure." Castiel had sipped his coffee calmly.

"You know," Meg had said. "I've just remembered I have a pressing engagement literally anywhere but here tomorrow. You could have led with that, jerk."

"Oh, very well. And how long are we to be gone, exactly?" Balthazar had asked petulantly.

"Hm. I'm not entirely sure, but let's say from eight to eight, just to be sure."

Once that was decided, Castiel had showered and dressed and now he was finally ready for his phone call to Dean. He decided on the garden so he'd be well away from prying ears. On the way, he began to wonder just when the last time Zar or Meg had worked was. He also wondered why he hadn't noticed before that they didn't seem to have jobs anymore. He was frowning so hard it was giving him a headache by the time he reached the garden.

He took a moment to center himself and relax in the peaceful atmosphere before he dialed Dean's number.

@@@

"I'm just saying, maybe delving into the kind of stuff that gave you nightmares so bad you had to go into therapy isn't the best idea, Dean!" 

Sam wasn't really angry, Dean knew that. Sam was scared. What had happened to them in their childhood had been terrifying, and Dean had borne the emotional scars of those events for years. 

"Sam," he said calmly. "I get why you don't want me to risk it, okay? I get it. Believe me, man, you never had to experience most of it firsthand, so I am just as scared as you, if not more." He pinched his nose and let out a harsh breath, fighting back the images that wanted to form in his mind. "But this guy Castiel, he doesn't have any experience with this shit. He didn't grow up with a crazy, grief-stricken dad who tried to bring his mom back from the dead and ended up traumatizing his two kids for life."

Sam stared at him with shocked eyes, whether because Dean had said it all outright or because of the rage in his voice, Dean wasn't sure. He did his best to calm down again, just in case. When he spoke again, his voice was softer and he tried to keep it that way.

"Castiel is all alone with this. I've got not only what I learned from Dad back then and from-from what I  _ did _ back then, what I had to do… I have all the stuff I've learned since." He chewed his lip, waiting for Sam to blow up at him.

Instead Sam cleared his throat and asked, "So you did more research on the occult too?"

Dean felt his shoulders relax just a little. "Yeah. Therapist thought it might help me be less scared, if I studied up on it. Of course, she didn't believe anything I told her, but she knew  _ something _ had happened to me, so… yeah. Anyway, I've learned stuff."

"So you're really gonna do this?"

"I feel like I have to, Sammy."

Sam nodded. "How can I help?"

Dean shook his head. "I appreciate the offer, man, but you're not getting involved in this. No way. Bad enough I've gotta be."

"Dean." Sam rolled his eyes. "I have to fly home tomorrow. I know I can't physically go there and help you banish a ghost. But, like, do you need me to do research? Should I check in on you? How can I help without being there?"

"Oh." Dean felt annoyed with himself first, which he brushed off, then overwhelming gratitude toward his brother. "Um, yeah, if you could just, like, be available tomorrow for me to text you if things go south? Like I might need you to, I don't know, look up something, if I'm busy running or whatever."

"Absolutely. Nothing too major is going on at work, so—"

Dean's phone rang and he frowned. "I asked him to text first. Castiel," he explained to Sam.

"May as well take it. I have to go pack."

"Yeah. Okay." He swiped his phone and said, "Hey, Castiel." 

@@@

"I'm sorry, I remembered about texting halfway through the first ring and I thought it would be even worse if I just hung up, like you might worry or—" Castiel stopped abruptly, realizing he was babbling. He took in and let out a breath. "Sorry."

"Hey, it's cool, man. Just breathe for a second. You sound a little freaked out."

Castiel sighed. "I am, actually."

"Something else happen?"

"Yes. Last night. And there's... well, there's more, but I don't want to get into it on the phone. Um, I asked Meg and Zar to be out at eight in the morning and stay out until eight tomorrow night. They probably won't be out until nine, but they may also stay out past ten, so—I'm babbling again. Anyway, if you could be here around nine or nine-thirty tomorrow morning, that would be very helpful."

"I can be there at eight, if you need me to be, Cas." 

If Castiel caught the nickname, he let it pass. Instead, there was only gratitude in his voice when he said, "If you don't mind, I'd really appreciate you getting here as early as you can." 

Dean thought under ordinary circumstances they wouldn't be on name-shortening terms, but given that they were about to bust up a ghost together, Dean figured he could have a pass. He refused to babble apologies for something Castiel didn't seem to mind. He tried to focus on what Castiel had said, rather than his own neurosis.

"Yeah, sure, that's no problem. That's usually when I get to work, anyway, so it won't be a problem. Oh, shoot, that reminds me, I gotta let Anna know I won't be coming in."

"All right. I won't keep you. Thank you again. I'll see you in the morning." Castiel didn't sound very confident at all.

"Hey. You've got my number. If anything happens tonight that you can't handle on your own, call me, all right? Doesn't matter what time." 

Castiel said nothing for a beat, then gave a quiet, "Thank you, Dean." 

"Sure thing, Cas," Dean said, and winced. "See you in the morning."

They hung up and Dean stood there for a moment, tapping his phone against his lip, lost in thought. If activity was ramping up, Dean needed to be fully prepared. That meant he'd have more packing to do tonight than Sam, but he wanted to be ready for any eventuality.

Then he remembered that he still had to contact Anna, once Sam was gone. He sighed. It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's [ a mix of Black Parade](https://youtu.be/EWYudrW9A2M) that I've been listening to a lot. It's basically crack, but I love it.
> 
> Hi. *schmoops to your faces* I appreciate everyone who comes along on a WIP journey with me. It takes courage to ride along with all the bumps and potholes, so I thank you. ❤
> 
> And as always, your comments give me life, so speak up, beautiful children! ❤


	5. Rattle your bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbetaed, so if you spot any continuity errors, please raise your hand and someone will be along shortly to assist you.

@@@ 

After speaking with Dean, Castiel found himself reluctant to go back into the house. He found yet another circuitous route from the garden to the driveway and on a whim, decided to head for his car instead of the front door. After an unfortunate day where he'd been locked out of his apartment for several hours because he went to check the mail, he'd taken to keeping his keys in his pocket whenever he left the house and he was grateful for that habit now.

As his hand hovered over the handle, he debated letting Zar and Meg know he was leaving, but as they often left without informing him, he didn't see the need. Besides, he was trying to escape them as much as whatever was going on in the house, if he was honest.

He got behind the wheel, sighing at the feel of the supple leather seat underneath him. He'd cleaned the car thoroughly the previous afternoon, and it smelled wonderfully citrusy as well. He had never been one to indulge—earlier in his life simply due to the fact that he didn't have the means, and after that merely out of habit—but when his old rust bucket of a Lincoln had finally died, he'd decided it was time for a car that would last, as well as pamper him in the meantime. 

The sky was a deep blue, with little cotton ball clouds floating here and there. It was perfect driving weather. Castiel soon lost himself in the rhythm of the road and the beauty of the landscape as he wandered the backroads near his new home. The trees provided texture and movement as well as a variety of greens and yellows, and there were still some flowers adding splashes of color along the roadways.

Reluctantly, after he'd been driving for over an hour, he knew it was time to head toward home. He pointed the car in that general direction and drove, his light mood darkening with each passing mile. He really hoped Dean would be able to help him with whatever was happening in his house. If only Castiel had an exorcist for his relationships too, he'd be all sorted.

@@@

The day dawned gray and dreary, with a slight chill on the breeze that hadn't been there the night before. Dean didn't believe in signs and portents, but it still put him in a foul mood. 

Well, he reflected, a more foul mood, anyway. His talk with Anna the night before had wiped away any chance at a decent mood already.

Apparently, Anna's ex had started contacting her a couple of months earlier. 

"It seemed innocent at the time," she had claimed last night.

"So innocent that you didn't mention he'd been in touch, I guess," Dean had countered, much less sarcastically than he'd wanted to. 

She had had the grace to look guilty at that and admitted, "I was excited to hear from him. I did think he was just being friendly, but my own feelings were… muddier."

"Well, look, Anna. I'll spare you the trouble of making a decision, if you haven't. Or the awkwardness of telling me who you chose, if you've already decided. I want to break up. This hasn't been working since the minute you read his email and I think we both know it. I'll be gone all day tomorrow. You can get your stuff then."

Dean had walked her to the door and then immediately set about packing up her stuff for her. He didn't  _ really  _ think she'd steal any of his stuff, but he'd been burned before and he didn't want to take the chance. He had soon realized how easy it was to separate her stuff from his because it already  _ had  _ been. They'd kept their things clearly divided, despite two years of cohabitation.

He'd obviously made the right decision.

Dean texted the people he'd asked to help move furniture, confirming they could be at the house by ten. That should give him and Castiel enough time to sort out the other problem—whatever the hell it was—and get it any fallout cleaned up before their arrival. He hoped so anyway.

Anna flashed into his head again and he sighed. The most annoying thing was, he wasn't even that sad about it. Things had been off for a while. Maybe since even before her ex had emailed her. She still worked for him and that might get awkward, but he hoped not. She had said she still wanted to work there, so hopefully she'd just keep doing her job without any of the recent drama.

@@@

There was a clap of thunder, immediately followed by a sharp knock at the door. Castiel wasn't sure which made him startle more, but he didn't appreciate either. Then he saw that it was much later than he'd thought and realized it must be Dean at the door.

Balthazar and Meg had yet to leave.

"Coming!" Castiel called, rushing for the front door.

When he arrived in the hallway, however, he found Meg already there, leaning on the edge of the open door and leering at Dean.

"Well, hey there, handsome furniture man. Come to nail some things? You can start with me—"

"Meg! Aren't you supposed to be leaving?" Castiel interrupted.

She rolled her eyes and dropped the seductive act, stepping aside to gesture for Dean to enter. To Castiel, she said, "I'm leaving! Just having a little fun, Gramps. Remember fun?" Then she turned back to Dean. "Nail him instead. He clearly needs it."

With that she did her version of flounce out the door, which was more like the sultry slither of a snake who'd grown legs and a skill at luring men and women alike to their doom via sex.

Castiel sighed heavily. "Good morning, Dean. Thanks for coming. I trust Meg didn't scare you off," he said, smiling slightly.

"Nah," Dean said, his return smile captivating. "So how was last night? You didn't call, so I guess it went all right?"

"Castiel?" Balthazar called from somewhere above. "Castiel? Oh, there you are, darling." His head appeared over the top of the stair railing. "I'm off now. Has Meg gone?"

"She just left."

"Pity. Ah, well, I shall have breakfast alone then. Dean, a pleasure."

Dean nodded and smiled as Zar walked down the stairs toward them. Castiel accepted a brief peck on the cheek and then Balthazar was walking out the door. When Castiel looked back at Dean, he realized Dean was looking at him oddly.

"What?" 

Dean opened his mouth, then closed it again and shook his head. "It's not my business."

"Please. I'm not sure I can trust my own mind these days, so if you have an opinion, please share it." Castiel knew on some level that it was odd to trust a man he'd just met over his known companions, but on a deeper level he understood that he  _ did _ trust Dean, whether he should or not.

"Okay, well, for someone in an exclusive relationship, it's kinda weird for you to grimace and rub your face after your guy kisses your cheek." Dean shrugged, face neutral.

"I—did I?" Castiel asked in surprise. He had no awareness of having done it. He frowned and looked around the house. "I want to take you to the garden. I have my reasons," he said, before Dean could question him. "I'll explain when we're there."

Dean shrugged. "Lead the way."

Castiel did so, all too aware of his proximity to Dean along the way. Dean seemed subdued this morning, and Castiel wondered if he'd started the day that way or had become that way after everything that had happened so far since he'd arrived at Castiel's door. He didn't ask, though. If Dean wanted to talk about it, hopefully he would. Right now Castiel had more pressing concerns.

"Holy shit," Dean said in a breathy whisper. "This place is awesome!"

Castiel couldn't help the grin that split his face. Partly due to Dean's enthusiasm and partly due to Dean's own beauty being complimented by the space.

"It is, isn't it? It's one of the reasons I knew I wanted the house." Castiel's smile flagged. "Now I wonder if that was the wrong choice."

"No, hey, listen. We're gonna get to the bottom of whatever's happening and make it stop, all right?" Dean's hand hovered in the air as if he wanted to touch Castiel reassuringly, but instead he reached out and fiddled with a nearby leaf. "Um, so why'd you bring me out here?"

"Right. Well, I suppose you might want to sit. It will probably take a while to get it all out."

Castiel started with his reflections and realizations from the first time he'd visited the garden after Dean had left, then continued with all the strange happenings since then. The previous night had not been quiet, not at all, but Castiel had left his phone in the car after his drive, so he hadn't called Dean, despite desperately wanting to. He said as much now, though he left out the desperation.

"So you can see why I don't trust myself at all right now."

Dean hummed a noncommittal noise, but he was frowning slightly. He had said nothing when Castiel admitted his attraction and lack of exclusivity in his relationship. Perhaps he'd already lost interest.

"Anything else you can think of that I need to know?" Dean finally asked.

Castiel shook his head.

"All right. Your bedroom and the kitchen seem to be the hotspots, so we'll stop by my car and grab my equipment and then head to the kitchen. We'll save the bedroom for last, since the movers will be here at ten and we don't want to risk having them around while we're down in the kitchen."

Castiel nodded, then looked up at the sky, which was still gray and damp, but far less foreboding than it had seemed from inside. Still, as he walked Dean back toward the house, a chill worked its way down his spine and he knew it had little to do with the weather.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going much more slowly than it was meant to. These damn kids do what they want and to hell with my plans. Say hi, please. It do soothe me so. ❤❤❤


	6. When the stranger comes along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing happens till it does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry so short. Wasn't sure you were getting one at all today, but given that tomorrow is the Hellection where I am and many of you are, I thought maybe I really needed to.

@@@

Nothing was fucking happening.

Dean checked his watch and saw that over an hour had passed since his arrival. They'd been in the kitchen for most of that time and there had been not a single peep of anything paranormal, supernatural or even interesting—aside from the sexual tension between him and Castiel, which probably did not count.

"Is anything different today than normal? Changed your routine at all?" Dean didn't think ghosts cared about routine, but there had to be some reason that all had gone quiet.

"No. I mean, Meg and Balthazar being gone isn't normal, but it's also not unheard of."

Before Dean could comment, they heard the front door opening. Castiel frowned and started toward the hallway and Dean followed after him. By the time they got there, the hallway was empty and so was the living room. Then a faint creak overhead let them know where the person had gone.

They waited at the foot of the stairs, taking care to stand where they couldn't be seen from the railing. Dean wasn't sure why they were doing it, but given that the person had made zero noise in a house with wooden floors and stairs, Dean thought he should follow Castiel's lead. After a minute or so, there was a creak at the top of the stairs and then Balthazar appeared a few seconds later.

He startled badly when he saw them and clutched his chest.

"Good God, Castiel! You gave me a fright!"

"Mm, well, maybe if you weren't sneaking around like a prowler, I would feel more contrite," Castiel said. "Why are you here?"

Dean could see that Balthazar did not like the question.

"Last I checked," Balthazar said in a clipped tone. "I  _ live _ here."

Castiel smiled at him sweetly, but his eyes were shooting sparks.

"Uh, I think I'm gonna go back to my measurements." Dean hurriedly walked into the living room, not wanting any part of the domestic drama that might be about to ensue. 

Since he hadn't actually started the measurements, he set to work doing just that. He ignored the voices from the hallway as he took notes on the different lengths and widths, but he did note that he could clearly hear footsteps and the door closing when, presumably, Balthazar left. He wasn't surprised when Castiel came in shortly after.

"I apologize. That must have been awkward."

"No big," Dean said, shrugging. "You get it sorted out? Weird he was sneaking around."

"Well, he's right. He does live here. He was likely just trying not to disturb us."

Dean frowned. Castiel sounded off. It wasn't just his words, it was his manner. He seemed strange and Dean couldn't pinpoint how.

"Um. Okay." Dean cleared his throat. "Why don't we head to the kitchen and get my equipment and see if we have better luck in the bedroom?"

If he'd said that prior to Balthazar's unexpected visit, when Castiel wasn't being weird, Dean might have made some sort of silly double entendre out of "better luck in the bedroom," but as it was, he felt like they were back at Castiel considering his relationship exclusive. Instead Dean cleared his throat awkwardly and headed for the kitchen without waiting to see if Castiel was following.

Before he got halfway through the dining room, he heard one of his machines beeping, but he couldn't tell which one. By the time he reached the kitchen, he realized it was more than one.

"What the hell?" he asked as he stepped inside.

"Is something happening? What are those noises?" Castiel asked, from much closer than Dean had realized.

"I don't know. A couple of my—"

Before Dean could finish, his sculpture flung itself off the wall and hit the floor. Other pieces of art and kitchen utensils also started to shake like they might be next.

He reached into his bag and grabbed the bundle of smoke cleansing herbs he'd brought along and a lighter. He lit it and smoke curled up in a gray spiral. He wafted it toward the area of activity while he recited a protection spell. After a full minute of chanting and wafting, the beeping stopped and so did the shaking.

"What the fuck?" Castiel asked in a breathless whisper. 

Dean shook his head. "I don't know. But based on how it was quiet and then got super crazy, I have a feeling this is outside my pay grade. If you don't mind, I'd like to call in a friend who has a lot more experience than I've got."

"Please do! I want this madness to end."

Dean pulled out his phone, then thought better of making the call from inside the house. "You mind if we step outside? I don't think we should stay in here until my friend can get here."

"What about the movers?" Castiel asked.

"Shit." Dean had almost forgotten. "They should be okay in the living room, but I'll talk to them when they get here."

He and Castiel made their way to the front porch and Dean walked on down the steps to the drive. Then he scrolled till he found the contact he needed. It only rang once before it was picked up.

"Hey, Missouri. I need your help."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love you lovelies. ❤❤❤ 
> 
> If you're not in the US, please pray, meditate, light a candle, send healing vibes, wave a wand, dance naked or whatever form of worship of whatever religion or lack there of to which you subscribe for our country. If you're in the US, please do the same, but also VOTE!! 💙💙💙
> 
> I got accused of gay bashing today. By a random stranger. Because I called out the hate from *rump supporters on a Democrat celeb's webpage. A celeb who has run an lgbt charity for years. The stupid is strong, y'all. Love me?


	7. You'll feel it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another walk in the garden and some revelations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any typos. I found Xastiel before this went to post. So there are probably more. Welcome back!

@@@

Castiel felt spacey and weird. He didn't understand his reactions to Zar or his words to Dean. He felt like he was on some sort of autopilot where even his words were not his own. 

He hoped to feel better once they were on the porch, but he didn't. If anything, he thought maybe he felt worse. As Dean concluded his phone call, he decided to go back to the one place he'd felt safe these last few days: the garden. He signaled to Dean that he was headed that way, but Dean held up a finger to request he wait. Dean finished his phone call and then pulled pen and paper out of his bag.

"I'm gonna leave a note for the guys and for Missouri to call me when they get here. I'll walk with you, if you don't mind. You're going to the garden, right?"

"Yes. My head is muddled. I'm hoping it will be clearer there." Castiel did his best to smile, but wasn't sure he achieved it. "And you're welcome to join me."

He headed that direction and Dean fell into step beside him. At first Castiel's head remained foggy, but as they got further from the drive and the house, the fog began to lift. It was comfortable walking beside Dean. As they neared the garden, there were a few times where their hands brushed and Castiel felt a rush of pleasant adrenaline. After the third time, Dean looked over and smiled at him warmly.

Unable to maintain the eye contact, Castiel also smiled, but ducked his head and watched his feet as they came up to the entrance.

"So how ya feeling now? Any better?" Dean asked.

"Much, yes. I felt so strange in the house, and even worse in the driveway, honestly. I don't understand what's happening."

"So…." Dean cleared his throat. "What was all that with Balthazar? Did it really not bother you he was sneaking around like that? Seemed odd to me."

As soon as Dean said it, Castiel realized he  _ was  _ bothered by it. Very bothered.

"It does bother me. I don't know why I was so unwilling to press him on it in the house and so willing to make excuses for him. It was very strange, him sneaking in. I didn't like it."

"Well, I hesitate to mention this, but it's pretty freakin' weird that there was no activity until he showed up," Dean said.

Castiel mulled it over. Dean wasn't wrong. Was it just a coincidence? Or something more sinister? He chewed at his lip. Why was all of this happening now that they'd moved here?

“I really don’t understand. I mean, how could he make a ghost appear? But I agree that it is strange.”

“We’ll know more once Missouri gets here. She’s got a lot more experience with all this stuff. And she’s like a walking encyclopedia of the paranormal,” Dean said.

“So… why do you know so much about this stuff yourself, Dean? I know it’s none of my business, but this is all so new to me, I’d like to hear your story. Or at least as much of it as you’re willing to tell me.” Castiel knew he was pushing, but he really wanted the distraction, as well as some sense of solidarity.

Dean cleared his throat and stared into the distance. “I really, really don’t want to get into the details, but I guess I can give you the broad strokes. Someone close to me—” Dean stopped and sighed. “My mom. She died when I was younger. My dad wasn’t exactly mentally stable before that, but when she died, he flipped his shit completely. Um,” Dean said, and it sounded as if his voice was wavering. “He got into occult shit. Scary shit, some of it. Most of it was bogus, but he stumbled across some real stuff too. Tried to bring Mom back. It… didn’t go well.”

“Oh, Dean, I’m so sorry. What an awful way for him to compound your grief.” He put a hand on Dean’s shoulder and squeezed.

Dean stared down at Castiel’s hand and then looked up into Castiel’s eyes. He reached up and put his own hand over Castiel’s. They stayed that way for a long moment, staring into each other’s eyes and essentially holding hands on Dean’s shoulder. Then Dean’s phone made a noise and the moment was lost as Dean let go and looked down to pull the phone out.

He sniffed as he checked the phone. “Missouri’s here. We should go meet her. Or I can go alone, if you’d rather stay here.” The end of the sentence went up like a question.

“No.” Castiel shook his head. “I want to see this through.”

Dean nodded and turned away, walking briskly back toward the house. Castiel already missed the feel of Dean’s hand on his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me! This has been some week! And if you think I'm strictly speaking the election... I won't be the one to tell you otherwise... (no spoilers!)(I got spoiled Hella hard myself, but it's okay)
> 
> Love you schmoops! ❤❤❤


	8. Fear is how I fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missouri arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darlings! You have no idea how surprised I am that I've managed a chapter this week*. I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> *My doggo has been sick and it's been a scary few days. Good pupper vibes appreciated!

@@@

Dean tried to calm his racing heart and he briskly walked back toward the house. He'd almost kissed Castiel, and with all the drama in both their lives right, that probably wasn't the best move, but he found he'd rarely wanted anything more. 

Not that he had time to worry about that right now.

He rounded a corner and the house came into view, as did Missouri. As it had every time he'd seen her since he was younger, her presence both calmed him and reminded him of bad times. He no longer remembered how he'd found her, all those years ago, but she'd been the one to save them from his father's reckless stupidity. 

"Dean Winchester, it is impolite to keep a lady waiting," she called when he was within a few yards.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, grinning despite her chastisement. 

"It's my fault, ma'am," Castiel said, coming up from behind. "I needed to go to the garden, away from the house."

"Hm," she said, looking Castiel over as if she could see his soul with a glance. 

Maybe she could. She was a rare breed: a true medium and clairvoyant. She knew things she couldn't possibly know and Dean had long since given up trying to explain it.

She smiled at Castiel at last. "I'm sorry you've been so troubled, Castiel. We'll get this sorted out, I promise you. Are you comfortable going back into the house with me?"

"Yes, ma'am," Castiel said. "I think I have to, whether I am or not."

"All right then. Let's go then. The men you're waiting for got held up in traffic, so we've got time," she said, stepping up to the front door and walking inside without a backward glance.

Castiel frowned. "How could she know they've been held up? Does she know them?"

"Missouri knows a lot of things. You'll see," Dean said. "We better get in there before we get in trouble."

Castiel laughed, but the smile dropped off his face when he got inside.

"Nice of you boys to join me," Missouri said drily. She closed her eyes, her face placid, but she quickly frowned. "There's a darkness here, but it's no ghost." She opened her eyes, looking at Castiel. "There is malevolent intent and it's focused on you, Castiel."

She glanced toward the stairway and headed that direction. She walked up without checking to see if they followed. She led them around the upstairs, saying nothing, but occasionally tilted her head as if she was listening.

After several minutes of walking around, she stopped in front of a door. "The source of the power against you is in this room. Be alert when we walk inside, but this should protect you," she said, handing Castiel an amulet from her bag. "Here, you take this one, Dean. It doesn't like you either, even though you're not the main target."

She opened the door and the room was a madhouse. Everything on the walls was shaking. One fell and another flung across the room and hit the opposite wall. She ignored all of that and reached down to pull something off the floor. It was a large satchel and she quickly dug through it, removing a small crudely made bag. She threw it on the floor and crushed it under her heel. The chaos stopped, all at once.

She picked the object off the floor and held it out in front of her like something as distasteful as a dead mouse.

"We need to burn this, with some Sulphur and Colt's Foot. Make sure it's disabled for good."

"That's Meg's bag," Castiel said, nodding at the satchel. "She's to blame for this? But why?"

"I can't tell you that, Castiel. But I meant what I said. We need to burn this, quick."

"There's a fireplace downstairs," Dean said.

With Missouri once again leading the way, they headed back downstairs. She pulled items from her purse and set the object alight in the fireplace. There was a "whoomp!" sound as it caught, blue and green flames arcing out in many directions before the fire turned the more expected warm colors. The smoke that went up the chimney was dark and the smell was unpleasant.

"That won't be enough. We've got to get you some protections put up," Missouri said, turning away from the fire. "We'll need your ladder."

When he'd brought it in, Missouri instructed Castiel to put it in front of the front door. 

"We're gonna have to put up some wards and spell bags of our own to keep this mess out. Dean, climb up and hang this above the door." She handed him a decorative silk bag, a hammer and two nails.

"You want me to use both nails?" he asked.

Missouri smirked and shook her head. 

Shrugging, Dean tried hammering the first nail, only to have it shoot away and down the hall. He rolled his eyes and hammered the second nail without a hitch. He hung the little bag from it.

"What's in the bag?" Castiel asked as Missouri painted something on the door with a clear liquid.

"Bat's Head Root. Agrimony. A little sulphur. Bit of rue. And some yarrow. For protection and breaking curses and hexes. We're gonna put them up above every door, so let's get going. Your men will be here soon." Missouri headed for the next door, knowing where it was without being told.

When they'd finished and returned to the front hallway, Castiel finally asked what she'd painted and what she'd used to do it with.

"Protective wards against evil." She grinned. "I don’t tell most people, but I used holy top coat."

Dean nearly laughed at Castiel's blank expression. 

"Holy  _ what _ ?"

"Top coat, honey!" Missouri did laugh. "Nail polish. The clear kind. Dries fast, lasts a long time. Comes in shiny or matte so it blends in. Only mine has been blessed by a priest, for an added layer of protection."

"Missouri, you really are a gift," Dean said with a grin.

"Oh, trust me, honey. I know. Now come here and give me a hug." When she let him loose, a few ribs bruised for sure, she turned to Castiel. "Your turn."

Castiel stepped into her arms willingly and they embraced for a long time. When he pulled back, there were tears in Castiel's eyes.

"Thank you, Missouri. What can I do to repay you?"

"Dean didn't tell you about the ten thousand dollar fee?"

Castiel's eyes nearly doubled in size and she cackled. 

"Consider the debt repaid. Oh, my, that was funny. Bye boys. If you have any more trouble, you call me." She smiled kindly. "I don't think you will. But invite me to the wedding, in any case."

With that she strode out the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love me some Missouri. I love me some readers. And I love me some comments. ❤❤❤


	9. I'm crazy, crazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Movers and shakers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am posting this at 9:18.
> 
> I know some of you are emotionally compromised. Destiel is forever. Some fan fiction, whether it's called Twist and Shout by (I forget who wrote it) or Carry On by Andrew Dabb, is designed to fuck you up. But what you do then is, you just go read a different fan fiction. Like this one.
> 
> Also, I love you.

@@@

Castiel didn’t really have time to compose himself before Missouri was walking back through the door.

“I’m sorry not to knock, Castiel, but I need to get into your car,” she said.

“Um, okay. Why?” he asked, already pulling his keys out and walking toward where she stood in the doorway.

She stepped onto the porch as she spoke. “That hex bag in the room upstairs isn’t the only one. There’s one in your car.” She shuddered. “I felt it as soon as I came down the steps. I had my walls up the first time I came past or I would never have missed it.”

“So what do we do this time?” Dean asked, following the two of them down the steps.

“We gotta get rid of it the same way as the first one!” she said, her tone implying the answer should have been obvious. She shook her head. “I really need to some more warding, but on a car that’s going to be trickier.”

“Why will it be trickier?” Castiel asked.

“Well, assuming you don’t want sigils on your upholstery, I’ll need to hide them on the metal of the doors and it’s harder to paint them in small places like that.”

“Can you use the holy top coat on the roof? Paint one big sigil? And put a protection bag n the glove compartment?” Castiel suggested.

“Won’t work. Exposed to the elements like that, the naili polish won’t last like it will inside,” Dean said. “But I’ve got an engraver in my bag. We can do the doors with that and put the top coat over it.” Dean smirked at Missouri. “I’m surprised you didn’t know that.”

“Boy, don’t you get cheeky with me.”

Castiel frowned. “I just cleaned out my car the other day and took a drive in it. It was fine then.“

“Someone has meddled with it since then, Castiel.” Missouri squeezed his shoulder. 

He unlocked the car, with what he thought was the only key fob and key, still frowning. She easily located the hex bag where it had been placed under his seat, wrapped in a fast food bag to conceal its true nature. Castiel realized that must be why he’d felt strange even in the driveway on two previous occasions, except after he’d cleaned his car.

He felt sick as he and Dean disposed of the bag in the fireplace while Missouri engraved sigils on his car, his mind whirring at a hundred miles an hour. The other hex bag had been in Meg’s satchel, but Zar’s behavior had been so strange. Was it both of them working together? Only one of them, but the other was under their control somehow? And the bigger question,  why ? Why were they—singular or collective—persecuting him this way? To what end?

Soon enough, Missouri was leaving again, this time for good. She gave Castiel her card before she left and instructed him to reach out, day or night, if his troubles returned. He took the card—and the second hug—hoping he’d never need to call on her, but grateful for the offer, nonetheless. There was something comforting about Missouri’s presence, and he genuinely wasn’t sure he’d have made it through the day without her.

Although, he reflected, watching Dean as Dean watched Missouri drive away, there were other comforting people around as well. Castiel made a decision, just before Dean turned and made eye contact. He was going to ask Dean out. Once all of this ugliness was behind him, he was going to go out on a date with Dean Winchester and learn as much about him as they could fit into an evening of conversation and food and alcohol. And then with any luck, Castiel was going to bring Dean back to this hopefully-no-longer-haunted house, and Castiel was going to get Dean naked and learn as much about his body as they could possibly fit into a full naked eight hour night in Castiel’s bed.

Before he could say a word, though, Dean’s phone chimed in his pocket and he pulled it out with a frown. “The guys will be here in five.”

Castiel decided he’d wait until after the men left before asking Dean out. He didn’t think he’d be rejected, but he’d rather not gamble on that before a bunch of strangers showed up. He nodded at Dean instead, saying nothing about his thoughts.

“Thank you for everything, Dean. I wish I knew what was going on, but without you I wouldn’t have been able to put a stop to it.”

“Hey, man, of course. Nobody should have to go through this stuff. Especially because of someone else’s bullshit,” Dean said bitterly. “And just so you know, if you need help kicking out whichever of your roommates is responsible for this crap, you let me know. I’ll be here for that too.” 

Castiel opened his mouth, but found he didn’t have words for his gratitude. Instead, he just smiled and nodded again. 

Just then, a large truck came into view along the driveway.

“I guess they’re here,” he said, gesturing.

“Oh. Yeah, looks like. You wanna wait out here? Or would you rather wait inside?”

“I’ll wait here,” Castiel said.

It only took a couple of minutes for the truck to park and for the men and women to file out. There were six of them in all, all in varying forms of apparent fitness. When they had all said hello to Dean, he started introducing them.

“Hey, everybody. This is Cas. He owns the house.” Dean looked at Castiel sharply, as if realizing he’d shortened his name again. “Uh, Castiel, these are—” 

Dean rattled off six names that Castiel did not expect to remember, but he smiled and nodded after each one and they murmured greetings at each other.

“If you’ll all follow me,” Castiel said when the intros were finished, “the living room is where the furniture you’ll be moving is.”

The whole thing was much more organized and efficient than he’d expected. Castiel mostly stayed out of the way while Dean directed everyone who was doing the heavy lifting. While they were both strong men, the people Dean had recruited assured them both they’d only be in the way, if they tried to help.

“We’re a greasy machine,” a blonde, whose name Castiel had already forgotten, had said. 

The first brunet Castiel had met—Simon?—had rolled his eyes. “She means well-oiled.”

From start to finish the entire process took less than forty-five minutes. When everything was loaded up and ready to be placed in the storage unit which Dean had graciously arranged at his furniture warehouse, Castiel handed out six packs and restaurant gift cards he’d purchased the day before.

“Sweet!” Simon said, then looked at Dean with a cheeky grin. “He pays better than you.”

A few minutes later, they were on their way to storage, leaving Castiel and Dean alone once more. Dean finished taking measurements now that the room was empty, but that was quick work. A silence grew between them as Dean put away his measuring tape and notebook, and Castiel was dying to break it.

“So, Dean,” he began, feeling nervous all of a sudden.

“Yeah?”

“I know I turned down your offer for dinner, but once all of this is settled, I’d like to extend a similar offer of my own.” 

Dean’s smile was amused but kind. “That’s a lot of words for “Will you go out with me?’ Cas.”

“Fine.” Castiel huffed in mock annoyance. “Will you go out with me?”

“I’d really like that. When all this is over, like you said. The haunting stuff and the furniture stuff too. I don’t want to get involved until I’ve built your furniture, if that’s okay.”

Castiel smiled broadly. “That’s fine. How soon can you get started?”

“Well, actually, what I’d like to do is take some chalk and mark out the floor and—” Dean listed off a lot of steps toward getting the space ready for the furniture. “I know building here won’t be the best, but if I can get it all measured to scale with my sketch and know exactly what goes where, that will help me get it built right at the shop so I can bring it here for assembly.”

“I’ll leave you to it then. Would you like coffee?”

“That’d be awesome. Thanks,” Dean said, already shifting his focus back to the sketch in his hands.

Castiel headed for the kitchen, his mind quickly changing from elation over Dean’s acceptance of their date back to dread over what was to come when Balthazar and Meg came home. Castiel would have to confront them and he didn’t know how he was going to do that—or make them leave if they fought him. What would he even tell the police, if he called them to remove his roommates? 

“ Yes, officer, I did agree to let them live here, but you see, that was before they hexed me and made me think the house was haunted !”

It hardly bore thinking about.

He was afraid he’d have to take Dean up on his offer of help, even though he was loath to do so. Dean had done so much for him already. Of course, he was being paid for the furniture part, but that was beside the point. Missouri’s assistance alone was invaluable, not to mention Dean’s moral support.

When the coffee was finally ready, he carried Dean his cup and then took his own out to the porch. He did it not only to stay out of Dean’s way, but also to enjoy some of the sun that was just now coming out from behind the cloud cover. He had just taken the first sip when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He defiantly took another long slow sip before setting his cup aside and pulling out his phone. The call was from an unknown number.

He frowned and said, “Hello?” as he pressed the phone to his ear.

Meg’s voice greeted him and she was shouting.

“Someone stole my fucking bag!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please form an orderly queue for hugs. 
> 
> ♥♥♥♥♥
> 
> And have you checked out my [author tumblr](http://harpercassidybooks.tumblr.com) recently? It's full of more gay love and book updates and stuff like that. You can also follow me on Instagram ( @harpercassidybooks ), Facebook (Harper Cassidy Books), and Twitter ( @harpercassidyb1 ). Come say hi!


	10. The daughter of the devil himself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moving day, part 1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, but my brain decided not to function properly for a couple of weeks. 
> 
> (Unbeta'd, as per usual, so forgive me any grammatical transgressions or continuity errors if they exist. If there is anything glaring, gently tell me in the comments)

Dean was exhausted. It had been a long, insane day and all he wanted was to have a stiff drink and go to bed.

After he had finished taking all the measurements and getting the floor marked out, Meg had called Castiel, claiming her bag had been stolen. He'd agreed to send a Lyft for her—her keys had been in her bag—but told her to prepare for a serious discussion when she arrived.

"What am I going to do?" he had asked when he hung up. Then his face had hardened and he'd raised a finger and slowly pointed at Dean. "No. I'm not going to wring my hands and wail. I'm going to make a plan and I'm going to get them out. Today."

Dean had nodded. "How can I help?"

"Well. I hate to ask, but do you mind helping me pack their things?" Castiel had looked nervous again.

"Of course. Let's do it. I guess it needs it to be done before they get back, so we start with Meg's?"

They'd found little in Meg's things that might be considered suspicious, but they had mostly just dumped drawers into boxes—and many of her things were still  _ in  _ boxes from the last move, so they didn't open those to see what might be inside. It was quick work and even with Castiel stopping to text Balthazar to tell him to come back ASAP, they had finished carting it all downstairs well before Meg's Lyft had arrived. 

Dean's memories of the day were interrupted by the phone. He glanced at it, prepared to ignore it, but saw Sam's name, so he picked up.

"Hey, I just got your texts. Everything okay?" Sam asked, voice cautious, but not overly concerned.

Dean sighed, wiping a hand down jis face. "Yeah. It was pretty tense for a while, at least with Balthazar, but they both left a lot more easily than I was worried they would."

"I hope Castiel changed the locks."

"Oh, yeah. Called them while we were packing up Meg's junk and they showed up right after she left." 

"That's good."

"Yeah. Called to get an alarm installed too." He wiped a hand slowly down his face. "Listen, man, I'm done in. Call you at lunch tomorrow?"

"Sure thing."

Once he'd hung up, Dean undid his boots and took them off, then made his way to the bedroom. He laid on the bed before starting to take his jeans off, and fell asleep halfway through, dreaming that a hot blue-eyed brunet was the one removing his jeans.

@@@

Castiel was so grateful to Dean. He fervently wished he'd invited him to stay over, even though Castiel knew it was inappropriate and the worst timing. Still, his first night in this huge—and formerly sort of haunted—house alone was proving to be more frightening than he'd anticipated.

Well. Maybe frightening wasn't the word. He knew the locks had been changed and that the glass was too thick to be at risk of being shattered by anyone. He also knew that the supposed hauntings should be over with (and had never really been spirits at unrest, anyway).

But he felt discomfited at the very least. And despite knowing the hex bags had been smashed, he still felt fear that the happenings would recur. 

He was also lonely.

Then there was the matter of replaying his showdowns with Meg and Zar on repeat in his head. 

The one with Meg had been both the quickest and the most painful. He'd genuinely liked Meg as a person and he hated that they couldn't part ways amicably. He couldn't be sure who'd done what, but she'd seemed genuinely hurt by his accusations.

"Is this your bag?" Castiel had asked when she had reached the front hall.

"Where the hell did you get this?!" Meg had asked,, snatching it from him.

Meg had seemed angry, but Castiel couldn't be sure it wasn't an act. "It was upstairs in your room."

She had immediately stopped her rummage of her bag and looked up at him sharply. "Why were you in my room?" She had run up the stairs before he could stop her and they had heard her thundering footsteps stop abruptly, presumably when she realized her former room was empty. She had run back down the stairs in the same rush.

"What the fuck, Castiel?" Then she had looked over his shoulder and seen the boxes. "Is that my stuff?" 

"Yes. Balthazar's is packed too."

"Wow, all our time together and this is the shitty way you break up with someone? You steal their bag and pack their shit while they're out?" Meg had looked at him as if he were just so much dog shit on the bottom of her shoe.

"I didn't steal your bag." Castiel had quickly explained the events of the morning and what had led to the search for the hex bag they'd found in her purse.

" _ Really _ ?" she had snapped, her eyes bright with fury. "You think I  _ hexed  _ you? God, Castiel. With all the people who've accused me of being a witch over the years, you'd think I'd be used to it by now, but nope. It still hurts. And from  _ you _ ? It's a betrayal. Fuck you, Castiel. And fuck Zar too, for dragging me into his bullshit and trying to frame me." She snatched up a few boxes and headed for the door.

Castiel and Dean had exchanged a look before they each grabbed a few boxes and went after her. Her things were fully loaded up within ten minutes and she was speeding down the driveway.

Castiel had thought that was bad. Then Balthazar had shown up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovelies, I've missed you ❤❤❤


	11. You better work, bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean tells Sam everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, how ya been? Did you think I'd forgotten you? Never. I would apologize for the posting delay, but honestly I think for most of us December was something and early January was something else and mental illness is a bitch and here we are. I still love all you schmoops.

@@@

"Then this asshat has the nerve to tell Castiel he doesn't deserve to have money and live in a big house," Dean said into the phone. Even 24 hours later, he was still furious over Balthazar's antics.

"What the fuck!" Sam said.

"Yeah. What the actual fuck right? Like, that would be a shitty enough thing to say to somebody you've been dating, regardless, unless that person was an asshole, which Castiel definitely is not!" Dean paused for breath, anger making him speedball. "But as it turns out, Castiel actually spent his childhood in an orphanage and shit! Living 10-12 to a bedroom and having nothing, right? And here's this posh dick acting like Castiel doesn't deserve to have nice shit now."

"That's fucked up," Sam agreed.

" _ So _ fucked up, man. Castiel got an inheritance from his estranged father when he died, and somehow Balthazar thinks that means he didn't deserve it because he didn't earn it. Like that British douchebag ever worked a day in his life. He's been mooching off Cas for months!" Dean growled in frustration. "And then he puts a damn double hex on the guy, all to try and get the dude's house. I mean who freaking does that, Sam? He's like a damn Scooby Doo villain."

"Wait, so how was he supposed to wind up with the house, exactly?"

"Yeah, well, he didn't count on Castiel meeting me, for a start. He figured either the haunting would drive Castiel to talk about it to someone and Balthazar could get him declared incompetent or he'd just control Castiel with the fake haunting and the ensnarement spell until he convinced him to sign the house over to Balthazar and move out."

"Jesus." Sam wasn't saying much. A sure sign he was stunned.

"Yeah. It's pretty fucked. And he used Meg and made her look like a part of it, so now Castiel is trying to mend that fence, but I don't think that's gonna go well. She was nuclear-level pissed when she left."

"So what happens now?"

"I keep building his furniture and then… I don't know. I really like him, but he's been through some shit. Not sure it's the best time to get into anything with him, you know?"

"You just got out of a relationship yourself, Dean." 

"Yeah… but I don't know, man. There's something about Cas that just… he's different, Sam. It's different when I'm around him."

"Different how?"

"I don't know. Easy? Simple? Comfortable." Dean wiped a hand down his face. When he opened his eyes he saw Anna headed his way from the parking lot. "I don't feel like 'dating Dean' when he's around. I just feel like regular Dean. Does that make sense? Anyway, I gotta go. Talk to you later."

He hung up without hearing Sam's response. Anna hardly ever came out here. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear what she had to say now that she was.

"What's up?" he asked when she was within earshot.

"Um. There's a woman out front demanding to see you. She's… kinda scary. Wasn’t sure you wanted her back here with your work." Anna noticed the piece in front of him and paused in her walking. "Wow. I like that one. Commission?"

"Nah, but it's sold already. Did this lady give a name?" 

"Says her name is Meg. She won't tell me what it's about. Are you dating her?" 

Anna only looked curious, rather than nosy, so Dean didn't get mad. Instead he laughed.

"That would be a big hell no. She's a friend of—you know what? It doesn't matter. Um, I'll come out."

He and Anna walked to the main building in silence. It might have been awkward, but he found he didn't really feel any animosity toward her. Definitely no lingering feelings. So he was just walking with a coworker, as far as he was concerned.

When he got inside the main building, he spotted Meg right away. She started trying to talk before he'd even reached her, but he put a hand up and shook his head.

"Outside," he said, continuing past her without waiting to see if she'd follow.

@@@

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think she wants?! This story has gone places and formats I never expected. Flying by the seat of my hex bag. Come say hi! Mwah! ❤❤❤


	12. I've got dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel writes.

Castiel had been replaying the confrontation with Zar in his head for an hour, instead of sleeping. He wondered if maybe he wrote it down, he could purge it from his mind. He booted up his laptop and opened a fresh document. His cursor blinked at him as he let the events play one more time and then his fingers started to fly over the keys.

_ Castiel glanced at Dean nervously. Dean seemed even more keyed up than he had when they were waiting for Meg. Of course, they'd been packing then, which had likely distracted him. _

_ His eye was caught by a flash of light as sun sparked off the hood of Balthazar's car. Castiel looked out and saw it coming up the hill. His heart started to pound and he took the deepest breath he could. _

_ Dean reached out and squeezed his hand. "You got this, man. You'll be fine. I'm right here. Missouri cut off his mojo. He's powerless bow, I promise." _

_ Castiel did his best to smile at him. He nodded weakly, losing his smile as he turned toward the door again. Dean released his hand and he immediately felt ten times more vulnerable. He didn't reach for it back, though, fearing it would make Zar even worse. _

_ "Castiel, darling, what  _ is _ —" he stopped as he saw Dean. Then he frowned as he saw the boxes. "Castiel, what's going on? Are you moving out?" _

_ "No," Castiel said, his voice barely shaking, despite his nerves. "You are." _

_ Balthazar smiled sweetly at him. "Now, darling, I'm sure you don't mean that. Why don't we talk away from the—" He gave Dean a smarmy look. "—hired help, and get this all sorted out, hm?" _

_ Dean's grin was feral. "Well, if you're hoping your hex bag will kick in once I'm out of the picture, I'm afraid you're out of luck. We burned them. And we warded the joint." Dean leaned forward and lowered his voice. "And I'm not going anywhere." _

_ Castiel's spine straightened as he realized Dean really would defend him. And that Dean's words were true: the hex bags were gone. Zar didn't have any power now. _

_ "You tried to make me think I was either going crazy or being haunted. Why?" Castiel demanded. _

_ "Dar—" _

_ "If you call me 'darling one more time, I will give Dean permission to punch you in the face." _

_ Balthazar looked shocked. "Have some class, Castiel, my God! I have no idea what you're talking about, anyway. Unless that's what that dreadful Meg has been up to, bundling up herbs and things?" _

_ "Cut the shit, douchebag. We know it was you." Dean smiled. "Oh and she is plenty pissed, so I'd probably watch my back, if I were you." _

_ "If I wanted an opinion from the likes of you I'd—" _

_ "I asked you why, Zar. You can choose to answer, or not, but you're still leaving." Castiel stared at him, his eyes daring Zar to try another lie. _

Castiel blinked, suddenly back to himself. He stretched in the chair, cracking his back in the process. He looked around the dimly lit room and decided he wanted to completely refurbish it. Get rid of everything that reminded him of Zar.

He glanced at the open document where he'd been typing. He considered whether to keep going. Did he really want to write down the nasty things Zar had said to him?

He yawned expensively and decided that at least in the short term, the answer was no. He saved the file and closed his computer. Then he walked back over to the bed and lay down, and immediately his thoughts turned to Dean.

What was it about Dean that drew Castiel to him so strongly? He'd felt it in Dean's studio, and in the garden as well… but ever since the hex bags had burned, it had returned even more strongly. He felt a connection with Dean that he couldn't explain.

Castiel picked up his phone and fired off a text to Dean before he could over think it.

_ Castiel: have dinner with me tomorrow night? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ❤❤❤

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! *schmoops all your faces so many* And remember, SPN may be ending, but Destiel is forever.


End file.
